


Using You

by IdiotApprenticeBeansprout



Series: Using You [1]
Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 21:35:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1564880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdiotApprenticeBeansprout/pseuds/IdiotApprenticeBeansprout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>D. Gray-man modern day mob AU </p><p>Chance encounters can lead to changed lives, especially lives changed for the worse. After meeting Tyki Mikk, Allen is dragged into a world of organized crime. Left in the middle of two opposing forces, his life sinks deeper and deeper into the control of the demon wearing beautiful human flesh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Using You

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first chapter in what I hope will be a particularly long series. It is currently rated for teens and older, but as the chapters progress, it will move up into the rated-R categories. I hope that you will enjoy the idea as much as I do. I also hope that I will enjoy the story as much as I think I will.
> 
> I do not own D. Gray-man or any of the characters or anything name brand that I may or may not mention inside this story.

One of the hardest things to do is find something valuable to do with free time. Allen rolled on to his stomach, staring blankly at the television set before him. The sun had set a while ago. Vacation stretched in front of him like an endless, hilly road. 

The commercial that came on was absurdly louder than anything else that had played in the past hour. Allen sat upright, not realizing for half a second, maybe a full one, that the sound had come from the TV.

“That's been the highlight of my day.” He slouched back against the seats and looked to the perpetually fogged up windows nearest the door. Headlights would pass through every once in a while. Despite the bustling appeal of city life, Allen was having a hard time having fun with it. Finding the good spots in a city isn't something one can do on their own. It didn't help that he couldn't find his way to the bus stop and back.

“Who is that?” A woman's voice asked. This time, it took a while to realize the voice was not coming from the TV. 

“Huh?” Allen turned, nearly colliding face to chest with a woman that smelled strangely like Cross, alcohol and cigarettes. 

“My apprentice and he was just on his way out.” Cross answered. The master and disciple made eye contact, conveying the reason why the woman smelled like Cross and why Allen needed to leave the house. Allen jumped to his feet and put his hands up. He'd been idiot enough to believe that retreating to his room would be enough once. Just once. The woman laughed and sauntered off to the kitchen. The sound of glasses clinking echoed from the modest room soon after.

“It's almost two in the morning.”

“Well look at that. It looks like your education is finally paying off.” 

“According to my religion class, I very well should be reborn as a god in my next life. Karma.” Allen pulled a thin jacket from the coat rack. “And you'll be a rock.”

“One of those things is already true.”

“I'm leaving now.” Allen shut the door behind him. Laughter trickled through the cracks in the door. Allen slipped the jacket over his arms and rubbed his face with his hands. He hadn't realized until then that he had been tired. Now that he was long from finding himself in a position to sleep, his body did not hesitate to complain for it. 

Though it was spring, the night air still bit. It wouldn't have been a bad move to grab a thicker jacket, maybe even a coat. It wasn't like the sun would be offering retreat any time soon. 

“Mngh.” He rubbed his eyes again and made his way down the street. Cars drove by, paying no attention to the late hour. Shop lights flashed, ignoring the time in much the same way. Allen pulled up his hood, pocketed his hands, and walked slowly along the sidewalk. Cracks made his steps uneven. Strong wind bent and swayed him. The more he walked, the more he eased into the strange atmosphere of the night. A car sped past him and he felt a moment of affinity, some connection to the unknown soul that had already turned a corner, disappearing from sight. There was no telling what anyone was doing at the hour. It was enchanting, in a way.

White locks fell in front of tired eyes with each gust of the wind until, eventually, even when his hood fell, he resigned to letting it do whatever it willed. He shut his eyes and took in a deep breath. The scents of pollution, dew covered grass, and bar food fit well in the night air. He smiled to himself, ambling forward with no direction. 

It could have been hours. It could have been minutes. It could have been a day and a half, but it really didn't matter what it was or wasn't. The time he spent in the strange spell of the night was not affected by any outside factors.

A worn out “open” sign on an equally worn out door caught his attention. It was a diner and bar, a pub, or something of the sort. Paying no mind to the strangeness of entering a store mid-night, Allen pushed the door open and stepped inside. The smell of the outside air mingled with and was quickly replaced by a smog of cigarette smoke and alcohol. Billiard balls clicked together, glassed clinked and liquid sloshed. No one looked up. No one cared that he had entered. Human or ghost, everyone and no one seemed equally entitled to anything.

Allen walked through the unfilled tables, noting what the customers were doing. Some talked casually, others with brazen boldness. Some men and women sat too close. Near the back, there was a small group playing cards. Allen sat at an empty seat, watching the men idly. It didn't take long before he figured out what game they were playing. Strip poker. Laughter escaped his lips and went unnoticed. 

Someone was losing badly. He sat at the table in his underwear, holding his useless cards closer than needed. Whether for gallant intent or not, Allen rose from his seat and walked over. 

“Mind if I join in?” He asked, pulling out a chair for himself.

“Got anything worth betting, kid?” A man with thick glasses asked.

“Hmm.” Allen pretended he needed to search his pockets, but he knew precisely what he was looking for. “Would this be sufficient?” He set a pocket watch on the table. Its value was worth more than the bar itself, more than likely. The group stared at him, mixed expressions greeting him.

“Have a seat.” The man with the glasses used his foot to push the chair out further, a grin splitting across his face.

About thirty minutes later, the only two not in their underwear were Allen and the formerly nearly nude male who fled after getting his last article of clothing back. 

“Beginners luck, huh?” Allen chirped, shuffling the cards with more trick and show than needed. 

“Ante up, boy.” The man with the glasses flicked a stubbed out cigarette at Allen's head, his grin having not faltered for the smallest moment. Allen caught it and held it up to his lips, using the other hand to imitate a pair of glasses.

“Got anything worth betting?” Allen imitated the man's earlier words, earning laughter from the remaining players and a few who had drifted over to watch. He leaned forward, putting up an intimidating air. His words were drown out by the bar door slamming against the wall, pushed open with way more force than needed. Police flooded into the room.

“Looks like the game's over.” The group exchanged small looks before Allen returned their clothes. They immediately made for the back door.

“What's going on?” Allen asked, unsure of their reasons for wanting to escape. The man with the glasses grabbed Allen's hand and pulled him along.

“Gambling is illegal, boy. I-” He paused for a moment as a card slipped from Allen's sleeve. Allen hid his grin and followed at their quick pace. When the door was thrown open, a red-headed police officer was already stationed outside. His sloppy grin showed evident satisfaction.

“Going somewhere?” He asked, his features striking. Though he wore an eyepatch, somehow, that wasn't the most noticeable thing about him. 

“....from.... it won't be... what a pain...” Allen wasn't able to hear the full conversation going on around him. “On three it is... amateur...” 

“What are you all talking about? It's rude to leave people out, you know.” 

“One.” A male spoke and held his hands out as if pretended to ready himself for cuffs. 

“Two.” Another spoke, grinning broadly as he put his hands in the air.

“Three.” The man with the glasses spoke and all but Allen lunged forward, taking the officer off guard and knocking him to the ground. Allen stumbled to stay upright as he was dragged along. All had gone their own ways, some faster than others.

“Stop right there!” The officer shouted, gaining on Allen and his savior of sorts without trouble. 

“Get in.” The man ordered and shoved Allen into the driver's seat, not giving him time to move over before clambering in himself. Allen managed to free himself enough to glimpse the man lowering his glasses and mouthing something to the officer. The officer froze and fumbled for his gun, managing to land one ineffective shot on the car before it was out of range. Sirens blared as squad cars sped forward.

“Why is he shooting?” Allen asked in a shout, his head forced down to the seats by the male beside him.

“Apparently he's got a bad history with gambling or something. Stay down until I tell you it's safe.” His voice betrayed no worry. It was smooth, practiced almost. “And hold on.” He took one hand from the steering wheel to force Allen's arms around his torso. When the man jerked the car so roughly to the right that the car seemed ready to flip, Allen did not need to ask why he'd need to. 

Tires screamed and metal on metal filled Allen's ears. To his relief, it was not the car he was in that had been damaged. He wrapped his arms tighter around the male and clenched his jaw, braced so tightly that he wondered if, if he did get out of the car, he'd be able to move again. 

“Relax. It's almost over.” The male spoke, dropping his hand from the wheel to run his fingers through Allen's hair, patronizing, mocking. Allen gritted his teeth but decided it would be better to not distract the man from driving by doing anything about it. 

Within minutes, the sound of the sirens only grew more and more distant. The male continued to toy with Allen's hair, decreasing the speed of the car more and more until it was stopped. 

“How exciting.” He laughed and lifted Allen to sit upright, cupping his face in his hands. “You're pale.” Amusement danced in his eyes. “Were you afraid?”

“Not for a second.” Allen climbed into the passenger's seat, breaking the man's hold with no resistance. He laughed. 

“Hmm? Shouldn't you be a bit more grateful?” He reached to turn the car's light on. It wasn't until then that Allen noticed the man's glasses had fallen off. The thick lenses had really been hiding something. Though he'd never so much as considered another male attractive, he found himself staring, tempted to be slack-jawed. When laughter erupted from the viewed, Allen, the viewer, was informed that his staring had not gone unnoticed. 

“I wasn't-” The man leaned forward and placed a finger to Allen's lips.

“You'll never catch me complaining about such a cute boy eying me. Especially when he is alone. In my car. Without a clue where he is.” With each sentence, the man moved forward more until Allen's back was against the car door. The only thing separating their lips was the finger held to Allen's. Allen stared wide-eyed at the male before him. “If you keep making that face, this will stop being a bluff.” He pulled back, his laughing grin planted firmly on his lips. Allen attempted to muster a scowl or something of a reproaching look as the male lit a cigarette and relaxed into his seat. He exhaled and turned his head toward Allen, letting the smoke cloud in front of his face. 

“Hey!” Allen coughed and covered his face. 

“You're an emotive one, aren't you?” His laughter once again filled the silence of the night. The sirens were gone entirely. “What's your name?” He asked, pulling the gear shift to drive. Allen buckled his seat belt and tried to shake the flustered thoughts from his head.

“Allen Walker.” 

“I'm Tyki Mikk. Pleased to meet you, boy.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure what to go about asking you here on this first chapter other than the real basics. Was this in character? Does it sound like the way the characters would act? Are you sensing how messed up this is going to get? Or is it too obvious that things are going to get twisted?


End file.
